


While the Husband is Away

by LestatDeSade



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Deleted Scenes, F/M, Pure Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-07
Updated: 2015-09-07
Packaged: 2018-04-19 12:06:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4745798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LestatDeSade/pseuds/LestatDeSade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hs wife will play. </p>
<p>This is a deleted scene from my other fanfic, "At The Crossing of the Lines". You can ofcourse, read this by itself, if you're here for rarepairs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	While the Husband is Away

“While The Husband is Away”  
RachelxUndertaker

chapter 58 deleted scene

Undertaker zapped to the front of the Phantomhive manor. It took less than second from him to gt from his shop, currently infiltrated with reapers, to the Phantomhive estate which was a healthy distance. It was tucked deep into the forest, clandestine just like the Phantomhive reputation.

“Hello sir, the master is out right now, how may I serve you?” Tanaka asked.

“Vinnyboy sent me over here. We're switching digs. Told me that the place is as good as mine for a few days to return a favor I did for him,” Undertaker said. His tone was informal and casual. He was clearly not the most high class of guests that Vincent would receive. Honestly, if this was the type of man he was hanging with, Tanaka began to feel a pang of worry for Vincent's safety.  
  
“Very well, this way please,” Tanaka said. He led Undertaker past the kitchen, into the room where there was a telephone.

“Wheres the ritzy stuff?” Undertaker asked.

“First, I am telephoning my master to ascertain whether or not you belong here,” Tanaka said, “Could you please dial the number to your abode?”

  
Undertaker dialed the number, looking back at the butler. He was a clever old one, that was for sure. Undertaker would love to hear stories from him. “Here's Vin,” Undertaker said, handing the telephone to the butler. Tanaka listened intently to his master, nodding along with what he said, though Vincent was not there to watch.

“Yes my lord, I will treat him to the finest hospitality we have to offer. As though he were you. Good day my lord,” Tanaka said.

“Can I order some snacks?” Undertaker said.

“Of course sir, what would you like?”

“Surprise me. Make it good old man!” Undertaker said.

He zipped off through the manor, inspecting all of the rooms. He hadn't been in a place this high class since the last time his spooky figure darkened the doors of the Phantomhive manor. He found himself in the master bedroom. He took one look at the massive bed. That bed could fit what, five people on there with plenty of room? Undertaker's mind drifted immediately to something dark. Of course Phantomhive was having all kinds of kinky sex on that bed. Undertaker had seen what they'd gotten up to while he perused through Diederich's cinematic record. Undertaker than made his way to Vincent's closet to have a look around.

He inspected suit after swanky suit. All of them custom tailored. Shoes that were custom fit. Undertaker stripped off his own funeral mute uniform and tossed it on the floor. He buckled the many buckles on his boots and stripped off the skin tight leather pants we wore underneath them. He then went over and picked a suit of Vincent's he liked. Black hounds tooth on a gray background. He paired it with a black shirt and a gray tie. As Undertaker slipped on the pants, he realized how short Vincent really was, the pant legs barely brushed against his ankle. He slipped on some gray socks to match and smashed his feet into Vincent's shoes, which were too small for his feet. It was as though Vincent had the dainty feet of a woman. Undertaker giggled at the thought of the tough assassin and his girly feet and well manicured nails. He liked how the black of the suit matched his own long, painted nails. Undertaker then clipped his nails down to a reasonable, normal length.

“Whose lookin' fancy now?” Undertaker asked his own reflection in the dressing mirror. He turned around and got a look at his own ass. He wiggled it back and forth. It looked good in these pants. He resolved to steal this suit, even if it was just a tad too short for him and not thin enough for his lithe frame.  
  


“Nice,” he muttered to himself. He took one of Vincent's hats and tucked his long hair into it. He even brushed his bangs back, imitating the ever-so-slightly disheveled look Vincent wore.

“What are you doing in here?” asked a woman's voice. Undertaker turned around.

“You must be the lady of the house,” Undertaker with a smirk. He looked Rachel up and down. She was positively exquisite. How Vincent could still be chasing after his best friend when he was married to this lovely lady was beyond Undertaker's comprehension. It looked like the young man just couldn't appreciate the drop-dead gorgeous woman in front of him.

“Why are you wearing my husbands clothes?”

“I'm his friendly neighborhood mortician and he owes me a favor, told me to have free reign of his house until he and his lover boy got back.”  
  
“Hmph. You dare to speak of my husbands affairs in front of me?”

“If it bothers you, that's just even funnier to me,” Undertaker said, getting closer to her. He had no concept of personal space. Rachel didn't seem to mind. Rather, she stood her ground, not shrinking back like wilting violet. Rather, she was beautiful and proud, like a blossoming rose beneath the sunlight. Beneath that weak body of her, laid a soul as fierce as they came. A woman who could with stand anything, a woman worthy of the hallowed name Phantomhive.

“Please, as if I didn't know about my husband's latent homosexuality before I even married him. Do I look like a cotton-headed fool to you?”

“Sassy. I like that in a woman,” Undertaker said with a chuckle, “Say, you want to have some fun while I'm stepping in and pretending to be your husband?”

“Absolutely,” Rachel said.

It was within minutes that they ended up on the bed. Chalk it up to Undertaker's attractively scarred face, or the fact that Rachel's sex life was essentially procreative sex with no love or pleasure. She hadn't much more than her hand to keep her romantic company. Rachel had been the one to push him down against the bed. She was weak but Undertaker followed her guidance, theatrically falling down onto the mattress. He could hear the quickened pulse of her heart beat as he rested his head against the high necked bodice of her constricting gown. Rachel reached her thin arms to the back of her dress, quickly unbuttoning the buttons. Undertaker joined in, stripping of her of the dress with nimble and quick fingers. Where Vincent fumbled, this strange man had succeeded with flying colors. Rachel kissed his forehead tenderly. Rachel hoped that his fingers were skilled for other purposes as well.

“Your eagerness surprises me, is this for revenge?” Undertaker laughed.  
  
“There is no ill will between Vincent and I. We don't expect fidelity in our friendship. You just happen to be attractive and you did say that you are fulfilling the role of my husband, and this is, after all, the duty of a man to his wife,” Rachel said. Oh she was sassy as her husband and twice as pretty. Undertaker found himself trapped in those wide blue eyes of hers.  
  
“One I shall presume the actual Earl Phantomhive doesn't do very much,” Undertaker suggested. He wanted to take as many jabs at her as he could. To see if she'd storm off and leave in the middle of their sweet little affair, or if she would stick around for the main event.  
  
“He's completely clueless as how to please a woman.”  
  
“I'm not,” Undertaker said. He lifted the dress over her head and got to work at removing all of the bustles and frill underneath it. Now Rachel laid on the bed in her pink silk corset and panties. She rolled over onto her stomach as Undertaker stared undressing yet again.

“Oh, Mr. Mortician, whatever shall I call you?” she said.

“Just call me Undertaker,” he said, as he pulled off the hat and let his silvery hair cascade down his back. He stripped off Vincent's suit and tossed it on the floor with Rachel's clothes. Rachel let out a whistle as he displayed his bare, but scarred body before her. He had no shame. He had earned every last one of them, and besides, it added his morbid character. It was part of his mysteriousness.

“Turn that ass around,” Rachel said, making a spinning motion with one of her fingers. Undertaker obeyed and wiggled his bony ass back and forth. Rachel let out a giggle. “I can't believe you actually did that.”  
  
“What can I say, Rachel, I live to please, and it has been far too long,” Undertaker said as he sat down on the bed, then laid down on the bed. He gave Rachel a friendly light slap on the pert ass. Her cheeks were firm yet soft. She picked up a pillow and hit him playfully with it. They rolled around on the bed until Rachel was firmly placed on top of him, her breasts squished against his chest, her blue eyes looking into his vibrant lime green.

“We better get these off,” Undertaker said. He snapped the edge of her panties before sliding them down. Rachel purred in his ear and pinned him down.

“Vincent doesn't know what he's missing,” Undertaker muttered, completely in awe of the beautiful and forceful woman that was on top of him.

“Mention my husband again and I'm leaving,” Rachel said. Undertaker let out a laugh.

“Alright, alright, I won't mention him or his metal cock again until we're post coitus.”

“Wait, how do you know about his piercing?!” Rachel asked. Undertaker was thinking of the least offensive way to describe the reason he knew why. He eschewed the real one.

“There are few people who haven't heard about your husband's cock. It's kind of an urban legend in the London underground,” Undertaker said.

“Oh for heavens sake men are so ridiculous,” Rachel said. “No offense,” she quickly added in. She was full of so much sass, it reminded Undertaker of Vincent, if Vincent were a lady of exceptional beauty.  
  
“None taken love,” Undertaker said.

Rachel reached her hand down lower and grabbed his penis, stroking it gently until he was hard. Undertaker kissed her on the neck and let out a moan. Rachel straddled his waist. Each leg planted on the side of him, effectively making it so that he wasn't moving anytime soon, not that he wanted to. Undertaker's long hair was splayed out all over the pillows and the bed. Undertaker stroked the inside of her thigh with his scarred fingers. She smelled like the best lavender perfume, the same scent that Vincent wore. It suited Rachel better. He could already feel her getting nice and wet but he wanted to make her beg for it just how he cajoled her husband into fucking him too. He inserted his fingers into her vagina. She grabbed onto him shoulders with her hands, her nails dug into his skin and left little half moon shaped indents.

“Fuck me already,” Rachel let out a moan and he fingered her.

“Not now love, I want you more than nice and wet, I want you begging,” Undertaker said. He already had her at wet. Now he wanted her at begging. It was all part of his three step getting laid process. Flirt a little awkwardly (after this, he usually fails as most people find him too creepy), then comes the foreplay, then well, penetration. After that? A snack provided by the Phantomhive's head chef. Ah yes, this was the best short vacation he had ever taken. All courtesy of Vincent Phantomhive. Thank goodness he'd never know about what happened when he was gone.

“This is the sound of me begging, Undertaker, please,” Rachel begged. She looked down at him with pleading eyes and Undertaker looked up at her with a pleased smirk.

“It's been too long,” she panted.  
  


“So you say,” Undertaker said. He withdrew his finger from her and Rachel out a displeased little noise. Undertaker grabbed her by the hips and sank his penis inside of her. Rachel let out a loud moan as she was penetrated. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders as Undertaker moved her hips up and down, bouncing her up and down on his cock. Rachel let out a moan int ohsi neck, even nipping her gently with her dull, human teeth. Undertaker let out a pleased moan as he worked her faster.

“So good,” Rachel muttered quietly, unable to say much else as her brains were being fucked out of her by someone who actually knew what they were doing. She had never felt pleasure like this before. Her entire vulva felt so felt so warm, so wet. Undertaker took her without treating her like a fragile doll. He fucked her like it wasn't mandatory. He was fucking her like he liked it and Rachel liked it too. His moans of pleasure were only making her even more turned on.

“I'm going to come,” Rachel said, almost like a plea. Undertaker continued to fuck her. As she hit her climax, she grabbed onto him and let out a small half-moan, half-scream that could nearly have shot out his hearing. Undertaker took a guess to say that it was likely that she had never felt something like that before. Rachel panted heavily but Undertaker wasn't pulling out.

“Time for round two,” Undertaker said. He flipped Rachel over on her back and started pumping in and out of her again. She panted and moaned beneath his touches. This time, he was getting rougher with her, moans and sighs escaped from her lips without her even controlling it. Undertaker smiled a wide smile and missed her softly on the lips.

“Enjoying yourself, countess?” he asked. Rachel nodded enthusiastically.

“Yes, yes, please please fuck me harder!” she shouted. She loud enough for her cries to fill the entire wing of the manor. It was a good thing that they had a select few, discreet and highly-paid staff member who would say and think nothing of it.  
  
“Do you want me to come inside of you?” Undertaker asked.  
  


“Yes, ah, please,” Rachel said.

She reached up to wrap her arms around his neck and kissed him roughly on his chapped lips. She ventured down further, kissing and sucking on his pale, white neck, leaving bursts of broken blood vessels in her wake. Undertaker fucked her harder until Rachel felt another ripping sensation of an orgasm forming with in her. Undertaker came inside of her and as soon as that was ove,r he pulled out of her quickly. His thoughts briefly mused with he idea of the Phantomhive heir being less than one hundred percent human. He rolled off of her and laid beside her in the bed. Rachel laid with her head pressed against the pillow, sweating and panting heavily.

“Thank you, I needed that,” Rachel said.

“You're breathing oddly, are you alright?” Undertaker asked. He hoped that he didn't need to make this lovely lady a custom coffin any time soon.

“No, it's just the asthma,” Rachel said nonchalantly. She pulled the covers up to cover her body even though Undertaker had just been inside of it. “Do you want a cigar? There are some in the night stand on Vin's side,” she said. Undertaker shook his head and laid back. He stretched and sprawled out on the massive bed.

“Well, we should probably get dressed, I have some snacks waiting for us in the parlor,” Undertaker said. Rachel nodded and they made a silent agreement to never speak of this to anyone.  


End file.
